


Smeared Oranges

by TheDeadAreWalking



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadAreWalking/pseuds/TheDeadAreWalking
Summary: The person you see color with isn't always who you'd think





	Smeared Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so nervous to post thing because I saw how long everyone elses fics were and mine is so short in comparison. I hope you still enjoy it.
> 
> The prompt I got was: Jeremiah/Bruce colorblind soulmate AU
> 
> This is for the Batjokes Gotham Exchange (batjokesgothamexchange.tumblr.com) and its for Mari (softvaleska.tumblr.com)

The control room burst with color. He hadn't been expecting that to happen, hadn't been expecting his monochromatic world to suddenly become a riot of colors he couldn't name. He stumbled back slightly, eyes watering. Suddenly overwhelmed with the overload of information as cones that had never been used before switched on and begun working in overtime.

The gasp that left his mouth was followed by a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He must have looked unsteady if Gordon had paused to help him. He could barely focus on it at the moment. He couldn't even hear his name being called out. He was too busy.

His eyes darted around the room. They landed on different objects wondering what hues they were before finally shifting to the person who caused color in his world less than a moment ago.

He looked so much like his brother.

Too much like his brother.

But his brother was never in color.

He'd never truly known the color of his brother's hair. Never fully understood the way his brother's eyes the way he can see shades of color in his.

Jerome was nothing like _him._

Where Jerome had always been a monochromatic monster in his world, he stood out.

"Bruce!" Jim shouted again, shaking him out of his trance, "What's wrong?" Bruce gasped looking for the words, eyes jumping around Gordon's face taking in the colors and realizing he preferred the other's face. His eyes slid back to the man still gawking at him from across the room, "Bruce, he's not his brother."

"I know that," Bruce mumbled. Bruce was aware that the two detectives had begun talking animatedly behind him but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. Bruce rubbed his eyes trying to stop the feeling of fire that was spreading through his head. The colors were too intense, he couldn't process it all, it was too much.

He felt his breathing speed up as the man took a step toward him.

His soulmate.

Jerome Valeska's brother.

Jeremiah.

The world began spinning and he felt his legs give out as he fell to the floor.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of several voices calling his name.

-

_colors_

_they danced behind his eyes_

_the hot burning color of hair_

_too much_

_too little_

-

"Bruce?" a familiar voice called out.

Bruce let out a groan as he opened his eyes and let them scan the room. He didn't have a clue where he was but was grateful that the walls were stark white. He knew white, he was used to blacks and whites. He's not sure he could deal with the assault of colors his eyes received earlier so soon. Bruce's eyes landed on Gordon who was standing in the corner.

"Detective, what happened?" Bruce mumbled sitting up from the bed. It seemed like he was in a concrete room, he wondered if he was still in Jeremiah's maze.

Jim rubbed his neck nervously, "I think it's pretty obvious what happened, don't you think?"

Bruce looked down at his hands. It shocked him to see the skin he knew intimately suddenly in a new color. He's not sure he'd be able to look in a mirror yet, "How is...is Jeremiah doing?"

Jim cleared his throat, "Far better than you, I'd say. He didn't pass out at least."

Bruce felt heat rise to his cheeks, "I can safely say I never thought I'd be one of the few that goes down," they were both quiet for a moment until Bruce broke through with a small chuckle, "Is that really what red looks like?"

Jim shot him a confused look before his face cleared with understanding and he laughed, too, "No, they just call it redhead. His hair is more of a deep orange."

"Deep orange," Bruce repeated. He held his hand up, "This isn't white?"

"No," Jim said through a laugh, "You're a light tan. It's the same color as sand."

"Odd," Bruce mumbled, "Can I see him?"

Jim grimaced, "Bruce, are you really sure its best to see him? Jerome is still expecting-"

Bruce growled, "I know what I have to do, detective. Don't worry, just because I know what Jeremiah is to me doesn't mean I've forgotten what needs to be. What Jerome wants."

Jim watched him for a long time before sighing, "Maybe it's for the best. Jeremiah was has been asking for you. Harvey has him in another room and I called Alfred," Jim hesitated, "I thought I should let him know circumstances have changed slightly."

Bruce squared his shoulders and stood, "Nothing has changed, nor has the plan."

Jim regarded him for a moment before nodding.

-

As Bruce shoved through the crowd he tried to keep his eyes trained on Jerome. The colors of the world seemed more muted than he remembers his parents talking about. He wondered if that's just how it was. If life rarely met the expectations you set for it or if it was just Gotham. He already knew the answer. The answer was up on the stage. It shared a face with the man he was meant to be with. It lived in every crack and corner of this awful city. He hated Gotham, he hated everything it stood for.

He knows he can never truly leave it.

-

Jerome seemed to know right away.

"I see you like the young pretty type," Jerome whispered.

Bruce wished Jerome would go back to performing for the crowd and stop whispering awful things that only they could hear.

-

And it seemed as quick as it started it was over.

Jerome, finally dead, stared up at the sky above.

Bruce couldn't help but look at Jeremiah as he watched them wheel his brother away in a body bag. He thinks he understands what he's feeling.

Regret.

Relief.

Disappointment.

Bruce isn't even sure how to move on from here. How do you approach the man destined to you by the universe and begin the rest of your lives when you aren't even sure how to face tomorrow?

-

But as fate would have it, or possibly just how Gotham would have it, Bruce would never have to consider how to continue their lives.

Jerome did it for them.

Planned out how they'd be intertwined til death do them part.

-

Sometimes, Bruce sits alone, bones sore and heart heavy and curses Jim Gordon of all people. For some reason, he thinks if Jim hadn't brought him to that bunker than maybe he'd never met the red-haired –green haired– maniac.

He knows that's not how it works. That they would have eventually met but sometimes he likes to think about what it would be like if things had been different. He likes to have someone to blame.

He wishes for a life without the Bat and Clown.

He thinks they would have been good. Happy.

It doesn't much matter though, does it?

They might not be perfect but who is. At least they have each other.

He'd said that once.

Jeremiah, Joker. _Him._

Bruce can't help but agree sometimes and hates himself all the more for it.

-

"I missed you."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No," Bruce mumbled, dragging Jeremiah by his shirt collar and back to the car, back to his asylum cell, "I don't."

"I love you."

Bruce gripped the steering wheel tightly, "I wish you didn't."

"I know you do."

"I can't say it back."

"I know you can't, Bruce," Jeremiah sighed looking out the window as the buildings and people pass, "you don't have to."

"They think they've come up with a new treatment. They've isolated the compound Crane used on you and think they can—"

The conversation was an old one. They both knew whatever Crane and Jerome's gas had done couldn't be fixed. They both knew it had likely worn off years ago."What's your favorite color?" Jeremiah interrupted. 

Bruce was so quiet. Jeremiah assumed they were done talking today, "Orange. I like orange."

The silence crept back in before Jeremiah started chuckling. It grew and grew until he finally quieted himself down enough to speak, "And they say I'm the hopeless one."

Bruce wanted to drive the car off the road with them both in it as Jeremiah's laughter started up again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry if you hated this. My original idea was a fluffy story but I ended up down the rabbit hole of angsty but in my mind even if Bruce and Jeremiah fight and have an awful and destructive relationship, theyre soulmates. they cant help but love each other.
> 
> Also incase anyone didn't notice his fav color is orange because Jeremiah's natural hair.


End file.
